


At Duty's End

by neurotrophicfactors



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Missing Scene, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26177308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neurotrophicfactors/pseuds/neurotrophicfactors
Summary: One entered the Crystal Tower and two left.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	At Duty's End

**Author's Note:**

> I have not yet recovered. This is extremely self-indulgent and centers on my Warrior of Light, Wes Edelweiss. He's a good boy and you can see him on my twitter at @maelstrom_txt. Just a heads up that I do post and retweet NSFW art. Enjoy! Be merry! Indulge in emotions!

The doors slammed shut behind Wes with finality, the sound ringing through the dimly lit foyer. He had lost count of the number of times he had crossed this threshold and entered Syrcus Tower between his visits to the Ocular on the First and his forays into the tower with the intrepid Team NOAH nearly five years prior. 

Down on the ground floor the crystal was thicker, sunlight fighting to filter through the layers of azure and provide meager illumination. It reminded Wes a little of Tamamizu; the view that greeted him from the ocean floor as he tipped his head back to look up at the waves above. Unlike the Ruby Sea, however, here gold all but dripped from the walls and the tower only became more opulent the higher one climbed: a flagrant display of the late Allagan Empire's wealth. 

It was silent now, save for the distant thrum of ancient tech. Wes's footfalls echoed as he ascended the long, lazily spiraling staircases and he could not help but wonder how G'raha Tia felt the day that he made this same climb before surrendering himself to the whims of time. Was he scared? He must have been, Wes thought. Lonely? Undoubtedly. 

Wes reached into the pouch at his hip and curled his gloved fingers around his most coveted possession, the ridges of crystal pressing into his hand. It could have been his imagination, but the crystal felt almost warm to him. It made him ache and hope, and he was so afraid of hoping.

As he climbed the final steps to Emperor Xande's throne room, something tightened in Wes's gut. Dread coiled and curled in on itself like an ouroboros. The image came unbidden of a crystal statue in the shape of a man--that had once _been_ a man--and a small, terrified part of him was convinced that that was what awaited him. 

Wes closed his eyes once he reached the top of the stairs. He knew it was irrational; that statue (and he had to think of it as a statue and not _him_ right now or else it would be too much to bear) was on the First. It did not yet exist in this world, and never would if Wes had any say in the matter. He inhaled and opened his eyes. The chamber was the same as Wes remembered: the crystal floor gilded with gold and set into a vast fountain, the railing that separated tower from open sky. Across from Wes stood the Allagan Emperor's throne, grand and painstakingly sculpted from crystal and capped in gold... but there was no statue and the seat was now occupied. Wes reached again for the comforting warmth of the crystal, his breath caught and held as he made his way across the room with slow, measured steps.

He seemed smaller than Wes remembered. Taking after his Ala Mhigan father, Wes towered over many of the people he met, but in the Crystal Exarch's presence their difference in height was scarcely a footnote. Perhaps it had simply _been_ his presence. His was a gentle and humble authority that effortlessly commanded the respect of those around him. He filled the room with his very being and Wes was drawn to him like a moth to flame. He was comfort in the darkness and, as Haurchefant once called Wes, hope incarnate. He felt like home and safety.

The man before Wes now was curled in on himself and draped not in robes, but in the same clothing that he wore the day Wes watched the doors of Syrcus Tower close behind him. Not a fleck of crystal covered his skin and it was at once a source of great relief and devastation. It was him but not him, and despite the crystal in Wes's hand and the Scions' success and all of Beq Lugg's theories, Wes did not know if he would ever _become_ him, nor if that was what he even wanted. 

Wes thought back to the days of their expedition. How excited he was to speak of Allag to an eager audience and how he spoke more softly of the Tower's connection to Dalamud after learning the story of Wes's burn scars. Wes thought of his rueful smile when he interrupted the miqo'te's studies to thrust a sandwich into his face.

"Not to spurn your kindness, but have you not more pressing matters to attend to than feeding the research team, _Captain?_ " he had asked. "Certainly a man of your skill and station has precious little time for idleness." 

Once he learned of Wes's rank within the Maelstrom, he always insisted on calling him 'Captain' until the very moment before he sealed the tower shut. It was not out of formality nor any personal connection to the Grand Companies. Rather, Wes always felt like he was being gently teased. The Crystal Exarch later confessed that it had been part of a paradoxical effort to distance himself from Wes and endear himself to him.

"Food is important," Wes had replied. "Can't do much research if you keel over. And besides... sometimes I need a break." A wink and a grin were thrown in the scholar's direction, prompting him to look away. Wes had counted it as a victory. 

The Exarch only ever called him 'Wes' from start to finish. He had awoken to the ashes of the Eighth Umbral Calamity and lived a hundred years in a world teetering on the precipice of its own demise, all the while preparing to sacrifice his own life to save Wes's. So many lifetimes full of so much pain. Did the young man before Wes now deserve that burden?

No, Wes thought, but it was not his choice. It was his own, and the Exarch was very clear about his wishes. 

The distance between them closed and Wes found himself at the foot of the throne. Despite the tower's stasis, from this close Wes could see that he looked a little older: his features a little sharper, more defined and angular. He was beautiful.

The thought came to Wes, suddenly, of the day he defeated his first Light Warden. When the sky split open like parting curtains to reveal the star-spangled night. He remembered how the Exarch knelt before him as a petitioner. On impulse, Wes lowered himself to one knee before the sleeping miqo'te on the throne and bowed his head to the last bearer of royal Allagan blood.

_Burn bright again, and live._

Wes swallowed hard as he stood, the crystal gripped tightly in his hand. It trembled a little as he placed it next to the young man's body, though the steady rise and fall of his chest provided a modicum of comfort. It was all Wes could do to restrain himself from doing something terribly sentimental like pulling him into his arms. And so Wes watched and waited. 

For a long minute the crystal merely continued its lazy glow, but then it flared brighter in answer to the body next to it, whose chest began to gleam in turn. Wes's breath caught and he stared eagerly, silently begging the heavens for something his mind had yet to conceive. 

Within moments the light died down and the body drew steady breaths. His hair was falling into his face and Wes reached out to tenderly brush it back from his eye. 

The eye clenched and a soft sound came from his throat. Wes froze, gloved fingertips still grazing his cheek. His eyes opened and hazel was met with ruby red. 

"Wes...?" That achingly familiar voice.

"Aye," Wes said softly, his voice scarcely a whisper. "It's me." He dared not hope...

A slow blink and then those soft lips curved into a smile. "You kept your promise."

It was all Wes needed. The floodgates opened and a choked noise wrenched itself from Wes's chest as he drew the man into his arms with a cry of his name. " _Raha_..." Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. His heart felt fit to burst, pounding wildly in his chest with joy and relief and desire. He _ached_ with it. "I thought I'd lost you."

G'raha Tia laughed softly as his own arms came up to wrap around Wes's back. "No. Thanks to you and your efforts, I am home." His voice was thick with emotion.

Wes's shoulder grew wet and he gripped the miqo'te tighter for a moment before drawing back to look into his eyes. It was him. He wasn't the same but it was him and he was so beautiful. Wes lifted his hands to cradle G'raha's tear-streaked face and there were so many words fighting for the use of his voice. But in the end, he realized that there was a single phrase that emcompassed it all: "I love you."

G'raha's smile warmed, a wildfire tamed to embers. "My dear Wes, you have had my heart from the beginning."

He could wait no longer. Wes leaned in while gently tugging G'raha's face toward him until their lips met in the middle. A happy hum resonated in G'raha's chest as his arms slid up and around Wes's neck, drawing him closer. His mouth was soft, warm, and inviting; it was intoxicating, and Wes was helpless to resist it. And so he didn't. He surrendered himself wholly to G'raha's affections, reciprocating them with equal fervor as he pressed kiss after kiss to eager lips. His nerves felt as if they were alight, every sensation magnified tenfold: the wet heat of G'raha's tongue, the fingers curling into his hair and tugging gently at his scalp, the press of his body. Wes wanted him. His heart felt swollen in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to bare it, to lay G'raha down and take him apart piece by piece with care. To make him his. 

G'raha gasped as Wes's lips trailed from his mouth to his neck, where they found tender skin instead of crystal. Wes nipped at it gently and G'raha trembled in his arms. He _wanted_ , but...

Slowly, Wes pulled back to look at him. G'raha's lips were red, his cheeks a little flushed, and his eyes were dazed as they searched Wes's face. His desire was plain to see, but so too was his exhaustion. His body may have no want for sleep but nor was it yet fully awake, and so Wes drew in a deep breath and simply leaned down until their foreheads were touching. 

"I love you," he said again.

The fingers in his hair relaxed and one hand lowered to caress his jaw. "And I love you, Wes." His ruby eyes fairly gleamed, making him look every bit the royalty he was.

With great effort, Wes drew himself away and climbed to his feet before offering G'raha his hand. "We should head back to Mor Dhona. I'm sure the others will be thrilled to see you." 

G'raha's expression lit up. "It worked then? Both their souls and memories are intact?"

Wes grinned back at him. "Aye. You did it."

G'raha pursed his lips as he took Wes's hand and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Wes placed a steadying hand in the small of his back. "It was a joint effort between myself and Beq Lugg, not to mention Urianger's research on the soul-bearing properties of white auracite. I will not discount their contribution in their absence. To do so would only be remiss." 

Wes snorted and gently bumped the man next to him with the side of his hip. "Take the damn compliment."

The bluntness of it took G'raha by surprise and startled a laugh out of him. Wes smiled at him and did not release his hand. 

"Home then?" he asked.

"R-right..." G'raha took a deep breath and looked out toward the sunlit horizon he hadn't seen in over a hundred years, breath hitching. His voice cracked as he spoke. " _Home_."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and may you ever walk in the light of the crystal. Also I'm linking this art of mine because it is relevant. https://twitter.com/maelstrom_txt/status/1300156001711280130


End file.
